Lucky 7
by Cinerari
Summary: CG-verse; Yama was far from Gaia's first pick, and when you still have assassins leftover who are trained to kill Harlock, might as well put them to use. (Major character death)
1. High Card

**Don't ask what this is. I don't know what this is. Sometimes I just have to write dumb trash. I say that like everything I write isn't dumb trash, haha. Anyway, since we all know the CG movie is a weird fan fic-esque AU of Harlock, I went ahead and wrote some weird AU versions of other Leijiverse characters for it.**

**Enough bad jokes. I apologize for any mistakes and hope you like reading this strange thing.**

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><p>The silence on the deck held for hours. Only the breath-like sounds of the dark matter generator and hum of the engine offered anything to my ears until Mr. Bird flapped his way to my shoulder like a drunk trying to fly. As much as I preferred quiet days to explosions and yelling trying to burst my eardrum, I saw no appeal in sitting at a bridge station. I counted the hours to my relief on one hand while rubbing the alien bird's head with the other. Unless Kei felt like coming back to look at radar early, I had a while to go.<p>

As Mr. Bird warbled his appreciation, a blip cut through the pervasive drone. Then a second blip. A third.

The pinpricks of yellow on the radar were only large enough to fit one-man fighters. When a fourth popped up, I tapped out the command to widen the radar scope. Blips followed each other in rapid succession, as though I'd won the lottery of radar scans. The fighters closed in on us like a swarm of insects, more than I could hope to count. The alarm sounded automatically.

"What are we dealing with, Yama?" Harlock called from his throne.

Good question. "Cosmo fighters," I said, though I didn't sound too sure of myself. "At least one-hundred. Their models appear to line up with Gaia's usual fare, but our scans aren't picking up the mother ship."

I turned back to find curiosity lighting up his eye. He stood, flaring his cape out behind him, and Mr. Bird flew back to his shoulder on cue. "I hope they're planning something, or this is a terrible plan of attack," Harlock said. "Give me the helm." Despite letting me pilot on simple missions, he either didn't trust me on unpredictable ones, or he just enjoyed being in control too much to let me have a go. His eye flicked to me as I hung over the radar station. "You're good with turrets. Go see how many you can take out."

I glanced from the console to him, one brow raised. "We need someone on radar, don't we?"

"Kei will kick you off of her station as soon as she gets here," he said, "and we need you more on a gun."

It felt like he was trying to get rid of me, not that I could read radar that well, and Kei liked to keep things organized her way in a fight. I dashed off the bridge, passing her on the way. "Fighters?" she yelled as she passed. "Really?"

"Yeah!" I called back over my shoulder. A weird tactic, but with so many of them, they would be able to do some damage before we took all of them out. Still, it was nothing the dark matter generator wouldn't be able to fix.

My boots rattled each metal panel under my weight until I grabbed the doorframe to swing into a turret chamber. With the sheer number of them outside, I imagined I wouldn't need to aim. Just shooting could hit something in that swarm.

As I peered through the sights, they arrived just within our firing range, but instead of an uncoordinated mass, they flew in pre-determined patterns. Like an air show, they crossed over and under each other, zig-zagging back and forth in equal time. None of it stayed constant enough to make for an easy target. Curses and questions from the other gunners crackled through the communication lines between us. "Almost feel bad for killing them," one said. "They're putting on such a nice show."

I'd learned to think of the fighters only as hunks of steel, because it still stung to remember the pilots inside. Despite the show, I could still hit them, and so could the Arcadia's main cannons. Just as Harlock said, I counted off each ball of fire caused by my turret. I did miss more than usual, blasts vanishing off into empty space. As though the pilots' brains synced, they each made sudden swerves at the same time, just a hair away from hitting each other.

The bridge tended to keep to itself during battles, so hearing Kei screeching beside my ear made my heart thud in my chest. "Get the one on the port side!" she demanded. I swung my sights around that way in time to watch the sharp nose of a fighter smash into the side of the ship. Curses from the other gunners filled my ears, but I couldn't find a voice to say anything. The Arcadia's side bled waves of black smoke, like the clouds we hid in so often. No pilot could survive a hit like that.

"Is that their plan?" I asked through a bubbling laugh.

"More of them are trying it," Kei gasped. "Get them!"

I blinked. My stupid joke wasn't allowed to be reality. This strategy cost too many lives. Most of Gaia's army only fought because they had food to eat and a place to sleep in return, so no one in their right mind would go on a suicide run like this.

But they would die either way. As human missiles, they had a set path, no more dodging. I searched for those exclusively, but there were so many, coming one right after the other. The ship rattled with the impact of a second fighter, my aim trembling out of place. Tendrils of fire brushed the edges of space, before the automatic system sealed off the damage.

We were still better off. Their numbers dwindled, patterns thinning out. No matter the damage, the dark matter generator would repair it. We only had to finish the fight.

I heard my name, yelled or snapped in varying ways through the speaker, along with a desperate command. "Move!"

There was a chance I could have turned my sights up to destroy the fighter before it hit, but orders were orders. Throwing myself from my seat, I dove into the hall. Before I could stagger out of the line of fire, the crash shook the ship out from under me. Surrounded by empty air, I threw my arms out, clawing for the floor. It found my back instead, and all the air flew from my lungs. The ceiling remained intact above me, though the dull light flickered. As I caught my breath, I sat up to find my door jammed halfway open, a fire blazing inside. It was enough to make me miss the deck.

Once I confirmed my legs still worked, I pulled my communicator from my pocket and started back toward the bridge. "Hey," I greeted, fitting the bug into my ear. "I'm not dead."

"Congratulations," Kei sighed. "You weren't murdered by a remote control fighter."

My steps stuttered. "Remote control?" The adrenaline rush throwing my head for a loop slowed at the information. "You didn't tell us that."

"Well I was too busy trying to keep you alive," she snapped. "But they don't have human pilots. I'm trying to figure out where they're being controlled from. There has to be a ship nearby carrying the people controlling them, but nothing is showing up on radar."

"They're all being controlled by one person." My mouth said it before my brain caught up. The memory of her hands swimming around a projection of the battlefield, the way the ships weaved through each other at each twitch of the tips of her fingers – of course it was her.

"No one can control this many ships at once," Kei said. I couldn't blame her. I didn't believe it until the first time I saw it.

My pace picked up, and I weaved around a hunk of the wall, blasted in from the second fighter. "No, that's why she uses the patterns, so she can keep track of all of them at once. She has to be in one of those fighters, one keeping in the back or in more defensive positions."

"She?" Kei echoed. "But, Yama, I told you already, there are no living signatures coming from those fighters. I scanned them after the first hit."

No, it had to be her. That was why Gaia chose her as their second bet. She could strategize better than any of us. She had to be throwing off the scans in some way.

The collar of my shirt pulled back into my neck, silencing me just as the bug tore from my ear. The click of it turning off was punctuated by the crash of my back hitting the wall. With the pressure from my neck gone, I opened my eyes to find myself in an unlit room. A vent on the door let in enough light to show the outline of a supply closet, along with her standing in front of me. The edges of her form shone from the thin light, and a green light blinked from the silver headband she'd always used to control the ships. Hints of her blue hair lined her shadow. The familiar silver shine of her knife flashed up toward my throat, just like last time we fought.

That round she won, her blade so close to my skin I stopped breathing out of fear. But I remembered well enough to raise my hand in mirror to hers. After that, well, I hadn't thought that far ahead. My only thought was to keep that knife away from my throat, so I jammed my hand onto the blade and pushed it away.

"Better than last time," she said, her tone just as sharp as the knife. My hand throbbed with rushes of endless pain. I could only see the shine of the blade, piercing through the back of my palm. Blood oozed down from the wound in heated trails, and sweat built across my face as I wheezed uneven breaths. "You're still a child," she said, disappointed as always.

"You think you'll get out of this alive, Marina?" I spat between gritting my jaw against the pain.

In the silent space of a moment, I could imagine her blinking as she always did when I said something she considered stupid. "My orders were to assassinate the traitors. Getting out alive was not a requirement. You knew you would become a target, yes? So you shouldn't look so surprised." Her other arm shifted, and I remembered the second knife strapped to her wrist. "No hard feelings, right?"

The close quarters left me with few options, but my body worked on autopilot. Bringing my knee up to my chest, I slammed my foot into her gut. The door smashed open behind her as she stumbled back into the light of the hall, the knife ripping back through my hand. My vision rolled as though the ship took another hit, waves of heat and pain twisting my gut. I hated assassins who fought with knives.

Guns worked better anyway. My bleeding hand shot toward the holster, but Marina's trained eyes flashed to the movement. She tossed the blade, forgoing accuracy for speed. The damn thing seemed to appear in my thigh. I felt no pain until I looked down to find it there.

A distraction, of course – her main method of attack. She lunged forward, grabbing my gun from the holster. Before she stepped back to fire, I pulled myself out of the closet by the doorframe and dove to the side. My leg felt like it was ripping in two as the knife's sting spread, but the shot burned a hole in the back of the closet instead of me. My only advantage now was her lousy aim with guns.

I needed to run. There was no winning a fight with a knife in my leg. As I tried to lunge my way into a run, the pain in my thigh bucked it out from under me. My knee hit the floor once again.

"It should have been me," Marina hissed. I turned to find the gun pointed at my back. "I would have done the job right. Harlock should be dead and gone by now."

"There was no right way to do it!" I ripped the knife from my leg with a choke of pain. Burning heat spread from the wound to the bone and the rest of my thigh. Any more of this, and I would throw up. "Gaia was wrong," I slurred like a drunk. "You don't have to do this." I was just stalling as I tried to blink the world back into focus.

I knew she would shoot regardless, so my last option left me to pivot on the ball of my foot and launch myself at her with my good leg. Through some miracle of my elbow hitting her hand, the gunshot flew toward the wall. The clatter of the gun hitting the floor followed as both her hands clamped down on my wrist.

The first time we practiced hand-to-hand combat, she knocked me on my back with one sweep of her legs. "Prone on your back is the last position an assassin wants to be in," she said.

And now, with all my weight pinning her down, I saw her on her back for the first time. Her knife hovered over her heart as I bared the strength of my arms down on her. They trembled from the strain, just as hers did from trying to hold me back.

"You're still the same," she scolded, the fire of loathing in her blue eyes. "Your heart's not in it. You have more strength than me, but you still won't use it, even now."

"I don't have to kill you," I said. The blood from my hand rolled down the tip of the blade to stain her gray shirt.

As always, her brow furrowed, disappointment clear on her face. "You're too soft for an assassin, but I'm not." The strength vanished from her arms. I had no time to pull back. All the force straining my muscles smashed the blade into her heart. The crack of her sternum shot through the knife and up against my hands. Either I couldn't hear, or the world fell silent. Nothing reached me as I rolled off of her. I could only stare at the sleek handle protruding from her chest.

She reached up and ripped it out with little more than a wince. The squelch of it broke through the silence. "At least I did some damage," she murmured. Her eyes deadened as her words faded. "The others will finish the job."

Whether she died then or just passed out, I didn't know. I had no plans to check. I lay on my side, my arms shaking once again as they held me up enough to see the blood blossoming across her shirt. "What others?" I asked.

I waited for an answer from a corpse. Waited and stared, even as a rush of footsteps reached my ears.

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><p><strong>I love Marina so much, and I feel bad for her.<strong>

**I mean, having to deal with Yama just seems like the worst.**


	2. 1 Pair

**I don't know if anyone else headcanons that Yama got the same dumb immortality as Harlock during his little angsting expedition on Earth, but my pals and I headcanon that, so that's what's going on here. Also, I got a question on the last chapter asking what the pairing was (maybe they meant where is the pairing)? I should hope this answers that question.**

**So I hope everything is okay and you like it and stuff.**

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><p>Time stopped. At least, it appeared to while we held our breaths. In that instant, no turrets fired. No fingers bashed out commands on consoles. The bridge held complete silence. It wasn't until I blinked that I realized time still moved. It was the fighters outside that had frozen. All at once their engines stopped, leaving them to drift as harmless space debris.<p>

In some ways, it felt like a logical conclusion. Their tight formations fell to pieces a few minutes before. They instead meandered in uneven groups, so easy to pick off we had their hundred down to a dozen. And now, the stragglers just…stopped.

"Okay," Kei said at length, eyes flashing from one dead fighter to the next. As the first sound from the silence, her voice acted like a starting gun. One fighter erupted in a fiery blaze, the nearest to it following its course of self-destruction. They set off a chain reaction, each explosion silent in the void of space, but all as bright and brilliant as a fireworks display.

"Okay," Kei said again, her voice dripping with irritation.

I could relate. "How's the damage?" I asked.

Yattaran hissed as he ran his hand against his jaw. "Even with the dark matter generator, we won't be able to warp for a few days at least. Cheap as that attack was, trying to warp with those holes in our hull will tear us apart."

My glove strained against my grip on the wheel, but I kept my face even. "Every able man should assist with repairs. For now we will set cruising speed. Activate the dark matter generator so we can begin repairs."

This plan of Gaia's, at least what I could make of it, made no sense. Even with our warp ability gone for a few days, a follow-up attack would not be enough to take down the Arcadia. Gaia would be stuck in an endless cycle of trying to send out ships fast enough to beat the speed of our repairs. Besides, they tried a similar tactic thirty years ago. Or was it forty? Either way, it didn't work, and that attack at least had the decency to not waste a hundred cosmo fighters.

While the men grumbled about having to assist with repairs and I considered how spoiled they were, Kei snapped at Yama through her headset. "Hey! Yama! You answer me right now, you asshole." I turned to find her brow pinched as she gnawed her lip. She toed the line of worry beneath her mask of irritation. "If you're just hiding so you don't have to help with repairs, I will track you down," she hissed.

That didn't sound like Yama, but not answering wasn't like Yama either. Maybe I needed to be worried, but I wasn't sure how we could lose Yama in the halls of the ship.

As the door slid open behind us, Kei spun with fire in her eyes. "There you-" The fury vanished in a blink. I turned to find one of the other gunners standing in the doorframe instead. Kei's anger must have startled him, as he stared wide-eyed our way.

"Yes?" I prompted when it was clear no one would speak otherwise.

"Uh." The gunner scratched at the back of his neck. I had a feeling I wouldn't like this report. "So there's a dead woman in the main hall. We figure she must have snuck in on one of those fighters that hit us. Yama was there too, just bleeding all over the place, but we're moving him to the infirmary."

Before the gunner finished, I started his way. "How is he?" I asked as he stepped back to make way for me.

"He'll make it just fine. Lost a lot of blood, so he was a little delirious when we found him. Took him a minute to realize we weren't the enemy. Looked like a hell of a fight."

Yama wasn't the type to drag out a fight. He still cringed every time he had to shoot someone with anything but a turret, so finding the woman dead from a stab wound caught me off guard. I wondered if that had more to do with Yama being delirious than the blood loss. Still, smears and droplets of it stained the floor, while the woman's shirt shone wet around the fatal stab wound, the only scratch on her.

"Looks like she was in a protective pod in the first fighter that hit us," one of the men explained as I stepped closer to her. A few gunners and engineers lingered around the scene out of morbid curiosity. "That band around her head must have been what controlled 'em all, unless there's more Gaia soldiers hiding around here."

"No," I realized. "The self-destruct signal must have been linked to her brain waves. Yama said the fighters were all controlled by one person. Have we scanned for her identity?"

"Of course." The man shrugged. "But it looks like Gaia wiped any information on her. This was definitely made to be a one-way mission."

"But Yama knew her," I said. "We can ask him."

"Good luck with that," another man snorted. "As soon as we dropped him off in the infirmary, the doctor kicked us all out and wouldn't let us ask any more questions. You know how he gets when he has a patient. Besides, I think the kid is knocked on his ass with one of those horse tranquilizers the doc uses."

"Well, we need to take care of the body anyway," I said, hiding a sigh.

I always found the clean-up worse than the killing itself, and this time had the added aspect of Yama's blood all across the hall. By the time I poked my head into the infirmary, the doctor was back to drowning himself in sake.

"Kid's asleep," he said before I could ask.

"How were his wounds?"

"Deep. Ugly. Must have hurt like hell, but he'll recover. If it weren't for the dark matter infecting him, there would be some permanent damage to his hand. You bastards, exposing yourself to all that dark matter." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Anyway, he's in one of the beds if you want to go _wait_ for him to wake up."

I nodded to assure him I wouldn't try to wake Yama. He didn't need to remind me. I learned my lesson after the last time he hit me with a tranquilizer for bothering a patient.

In the next room, Yama slept on his side, a puddle of drool forming on his pillow. Though he didn't usually snore, his breath rattled like a chainsaw. He held his right hand close to his chest, wrapped in restrictive bandages. Any other damage was hidden under one of the paper-thin infirmary blankets. I pulled up a chair and waited.

A snort alerted me to Yama's consciousness not fifteen minutes later. "I'm cold," he slurred like a drunk as he peeled his eyes open. Raising his head, he smeared the drool across his cheek with the back of his bandaged hand. "S'cold," he repeated. If his bare shoulders were any indication, he wasn't wearing much, if anything, under that blanket. Surgery meant bare skin against a metal slab as icy as death, so of course he was cold.

Standing from my chair, I walked to the cabinet for another blanket. "Are you conscious enough to explain what happened and who that woman was?" I asked. He answered with a noncommittal hum. Whatever drug the doctor gave him was still coursing through his system. Every attempt to rub his eye missed the mark, his hand lolling all over his face instead.

"How are you feeling?" I asked in an attempt to ease him into reality.

"Like I got stabbed," he huffed. Even when I placed the second blanket over him, he pouted like a spoiled child. "Cold."

"You'll warm up in a bit. Can you tell me who that woman was?"

His eye wandered from me to the blanket then back again. With that same pout, he reached unsteady arms up toward me. "Come here," he said.

"We're in the infirmary, Yama." No one else was around for the moment, but I didn't want Yama drooling on me when someone did come in. "Just tell me what you know, and then you can get back to sleep."

This only made him huff through his nose like an angry bull. He grabbed at my shirt, tugging. "I'll tell you if you come here."

I was left with no choice. At least I did learn that he was, in-fact, not wearing anything. I guessed the wound on his leg bled through his boxers, and the doctor just didn't feel like trying to roll him into a gown.

Yama curled up at my side, using my chest as his pillow. The two of us fit on the bed with no room to spare, but he looked content with the cramped quarters. "Now," I said once the blankets were all settled back in place. "What can you tell me?"

"About what?" he asked as his eye slid closed.

"The woman who tried to kill you."

"Oh." He took a deep, slow breath. "Her name's Marina."

It was clear to see I was losing him. He would be out any second now, and trying to shake him awake wouldn't divert that for long. It also had the chance of earning me a tranquilizer. "Marina…?" I prompted.

"Oki," he murmured. "Marina Oki, rank two."

Once his breathing evened out, I slipped away and eased him down to keep from disturbing his sleep. His snore started up again as soon as his head hit the pillow. It would be a while before I could get any information from him, so I decided to kill some time, ignoring the doctor snickering at my back as I walked out.

A quick browse of the ship showed repairs coming along slowly but surely. Kei barked orders at anyone who tried to slack off, while our head mechanic threw wrenches at anyone who complained. I stayed out of their way.

The computer room was a few degrees warmer than usual as my friend whirred in anger. He did this every time an intruder managed to sneak in without him noticing, not that it happened often. I reminded him even he couldn't keep an eye on everything, especially during a battle, but the computer lights still buzzed in hues of red.

"Are you just upset about Yama?" I asked, my brows raised. Tochiro seemed to like Yama. Really, he liked every crewman, but he'd like our traitor from the beginning. And if Tochiro liked someone, they had to have some merit to them, and they were worth saving from the bottom of a deadly canyon, even if I didn't believe it at first.

"He's fine," I said with a slight wave of my hand. "No need to overheat the ship. He's so out of it right now he can't feel any pain anyway."

The heat eased just enough to stop my clothes from sticking to my skin, but the lights still buzzed.

"I know I should have sent someone to check on him sooner," I sighed. "But our hands were full. Even Kei didn't realize something had gone wrong. He just stopped responding. He didn't ask for help."

I folded my arms as he scolded me again. Sometimes he acted more like a lecturing mom than a friend.

"I'll do better," I said. "I need to go check on him anyway."

It was an excuse to get away, but one that required me to return to the infirmary. At some point Yama had stopped snoring, but he gave a growl like a lazy dog as I neared his bed. "Awake?" I asked.

His eye opened halfway to glare at the ceiling. "Unfortunately," he grumbled. "Your spurs are loud." A slur still laced his syllables together, but he appeared more aware than before. When his gaze rolled to me, it focused in without wandering to the walls or floor.

"Feel like talking to me this time?" I asked as returned to my chair.

His brows pinched. "This time?"

"You don't remember the first time you woke up?"

"No."

He didn't sound as though he wanted to be reminded, and I didn't feel like talking about that anyway, so I decided to move onto the matter at hand. "Who was that woman?" I felt like I'd asked the question a dozen times.

He heaved a sigh, running his good hand across his face. "Right-right. That was Marina Oki." He appeared to be cringing under the weight of his hand. "I don't know where to start with this. She was- uh…" He dragged his fingers down his cheek with another growl. "So you know I wasn't the best assassin."

I nodded. "Obviously." I was still very much alive.

"No," he hissed. "I mean, I wasn't the best of the bunch. I was the last pick. I barely made it to the team to begin with."

"Team?" I echoed. He made it sound like something for a sport.

"Not a team, exactly, but Gaia held trials for the assassins without telling us what it was or what job we'd be doing. Obviously, when planning a mission with a rat, you want as few people as possible to know. They ended up with seven of us, and we all trained against each other until they had us ordered from one to seven." He held his hands out like scales, gesturing to each degree. "One being the most likely to remain undercover and kill you, seven being the least. You really didn't know this?"

"No," I said. "I just knew you were an assassin the moment you showed up. It was obvious."

His hands dropped to his sides, and he stared at his lap with a tinge of pink warming his cheeks. "Just obvious to you," he muttered. "Anyway, I was rank seven. Marina was rank two. I trained with her, and she always beat me. Her assassination skills would have put her at one, but they factored in how well we would fit in as pirates too. She wasn't all that good at pretending to be a pirate, so she ended up on the planet Gaia calculated as the second most likely for you to stop on."

I blinked. "And you ended up on the seventh?"

With another soft sigh, he tugged at his bangs. "They didn't know where you might stop to get new crewmen. They only had a handful of guesses, and out of all of them, you picked the one they thought you wouldn't. That's why I figured you knew about the whole operation."

"It just happened to be the nearest inhabited planet without a military force," I said with a shrug.

"Of course." An invisible laugh left him as he shook his head. "I don't know why I expected anything different."

He started to tug at his bangs again, so I reached up to pet his hair down against the cowlicks. "So they sent Marina in as another attempt to kill me?" I asked as his hand fluttered away.

"They probably sent her because of that trick she could do with the fighters. She said her assignment was to kill the traitors. I wanted to take her in alive." His voice faded to a whisper. "I tried to, but…"

"An assassin should die rather than fail," I said.

"Victory," he murmured, leaning into my touch. "If not victory, then death." His hands trembled in his lap, and his eye shut tight against whatever thoughts assaulted him.

"You did what you had to," I said. "If she hadn't died, she would have killed you, and then I would have killed her anyway." I couldn't stop my voice from darkening. My chest tightened at the mere thought.

Despite his smile, he sighed again. "Give her more credit. I won on pure luck."

By the next day, any discomfort he felt was hidden or buried away. He sat at his position on the bridge with a cane leaning against his bad leg. The doctor didn't want him to move, but he soaked up more dark matter when near the generator. It continued to run as the holes in the hull mended, poisoning Yama's bones just as it healed him. He was either very lucky or unlucky his body adapted to it, instead of outright dying from full exposure like most. Now he was stuck like me, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Captain," Kei said, breaking the ease of the bridge. "There's a fighter headed our way."

A slew of different expressions turned toward her, none of which were pleased. "Just one?" Yama asked.

"Looks like it. Gaia class. Should we just go ahead and get rid of it?"

Other than Yama, the men grumbled in agreement with the idea. "No," I said over them. "Unless it gets too close, just leave it be."

Kei muttered something about how I was no fun as Yama breathed a sigh of relief. For another minute, silence held over all of us. Then Kei's console gave a beep.

"It wants to open a channel to us," she said, almost as a question.

I didn't see why not. "Go ahead," I said with a shrug.

The display on the overhead changed to show the cockpit of the lone fighter. Yama spat a startled curse, and I almost did the same. The only thing that stopped me was the pilot's blood-red eyes. Sharp lashes hung low over them as a smile tugged at her lips. Waves of hair the color of red clay fell around her and out of frame. But so much of her, from the shape of her face to the way she sat, was all so familiar.

"What are you doing here, Bainas?" Yama demanded. His voice wavered as he spoke again. "If you came to get the body, we already sent it out in a coffin."

Bainas chuckled. "No. I wouldn't use a fighter with so little fuel storage just to get a body. But if you feel like refilling this piece of junk, I would appreciate it." She leaned in, hands resting on her crossed knee. "I actually came here to duel."

Yama looked like he'd taken a blow to the head. "So when Marina said 'the others,' she was talking about the other assassins?" he asked in a daze. "Gaia is sending all the assassins here?"

Bainas shook her head. "Not all the assassins, Yama. Give me some credit. I'll be the last one. Like I said, Harlock," she turned to me, "I'm here to challenge you to a duel of swords. No tricks, no games, just a fight to the death - the good old-fashioned kind."

Her gaze never wavered as she stared me down. I stared right back, while the crew denied the challenge without waiting for my decision. Luckily, I didn't take orders from them.

"Alright," I said. "I accept your challenge."

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><p><strong>Has anyone actually watched Ozma? I love Bainas. She is so precious.<strong>


	3. 2 Pair

**I don't have much of a comment for this chapter, but for all three of you reading this, I hope you're enjoying it alright. Sorry if there are any mistakes.**

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><p>Harlock talked to his assassin like they planned to set up a game of cards. "We'll open the hangar for you," he said. "That would be the best place for the duel as well. It's the most spacious area on the ship."<p>

Along with everyone else on the bridge, I could only stare at him. There was no hint of concern on him, only a sharpened interest in his eye. Bainas agreed to the terms, and Harlock gave the order to open the hangar with a wave of his hand.

As soon as Bainas' feed went down, Kei found her voice again. "This is a trap."

Everyone around her agreed. "It's not worth the risk, Captain," one said.

"Her fighter could have a bomb on it," followed another.

Harlock's eye rolled to me. "You know her, Yama. Would she do anything like that?"

He had me trapped there. I wanted to tell him she would, that this was a trap that would kill us all if he let it go through. But my track record with sneaking lies past Harlock wasn't the best. "No," I confessed, to the glares of my crewmates. "Gaia knows you won't turn down a duel, so it made sense for an equally hardheaded assassin to be part of the team. That way, even if worst came to worst, you would most likely fight her on even terms. Bainas just likes sword fights. She only agreed to the assassin mission in the first place because she wanted to duel you."

She would go on and on about it during training breaks. "He's had one-hundred years of practice, you know," she would say. "So imagine how shocked he'd be to get beaten by a woman a fourth his age."

"More like a sixth," the commander would correct every time, though I don't think she ever paid attention to him.

"He's had no problem wiping us out for decades," she'd continue. "But I'll give him a real fight. He won't have it so easy when we cross blades."

At my answer, the corner of Harlock's lips tugged into a smile. I felt the need to hit some sense into him. Bastard was excited about this. "So open the hangar door then," he said, standing. "It's rude to leave her waiting."

After Kei tapped the command to open it, every one of us stood to follow him. He scanned the room in disapproval. "No," he said. "This isn't going to work. No spectators."

Kei also looked ready to send a good punch his way. "So what happens if you take a bad hit and can't drag yourself to the infirmary?" she demanded. "Are we just supposed to leave you down there to bleed out?"

He didn't look concerned with the idea. "If I were to lose, I know one of you might act out of a desire for revenge, and I will not allow my duel to be tampered with in such a way. If I am to be taken to the infirmary for injuries should I win, my opponent must be given the same treatment. Can any of you really promise me such a thing?"

I expected all of them to rebut that they could certainly do that, but they all averted their gazes and tightened their lips. Kei's hands trembled at her sides in fists. I wondered how much longer it would be before she really did punch Harlock. Her chin jerked up with a sudden realization. "Yama could do it!" she said. "He was friends with that woman. He would take her to the infirmary!"

"Friends" with Bainas was a bit of a stretch, but Kei's signal sent a dozen pleading eyes my way. I had no choice. For all Harlock's strength and immortality, the crew was genuinely afraid something would go wrong, and maybe something would. Gaia wouldn't send just any lone fighter for Harlock to pick off without an issue. I'd seen Bainas fight, and she wasn't just any swordsman. If anyone had a chance at killing Harlock in a duel, she did.

"I could do it," I said, holding back a sigh.

Harlock raised a brow, staring me down for any signs of cracking. I didn't bother to glare in return, but I didn't take my eye off his. "If you two are stupid enough to fight to the death, someone intelligent needs to be there to moderate," I added.

That was good enough for him. With a nod, he turned for the door and allowed me to limp along after him. "Take care of the ship," he called as we stepped onto the lift. Glancing back, I found everyone's expression hardened. Then the doors closed, and we started down.

"What can you tell me about this one?" Harlock asked, his arms folded across his chest.

"Not much." During training there was little discussion of our lives beyond the mission. Everyone was certain whoever the Arcadia picked up would die, so most of us kept to ourselves. "Because she was prideful and a bit of a ditz, she was ranked sixth out of the seven of us, but she was considered the third best swordsman in Gaia's military."

"Third best?" Harlock repeated with a curious hum. That glint of excitement reappeared in his eye. "This should be an interesting fight then."

The doors to the lift opened, and he walked off with those long, brisk strides of his. I struggled to keep up with the cane slowing me down. "I think you should take this more seriously," I said from a few paces behind.

"I take every duel seriously. It would be a disrespect to my opponents not to. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy the idea of a challenge."

Before I could tell him he was too excited to be considered serious, he looked back over his shoulder. His pace slowed, allowing me to catch up. Once I was back at his side, he spoke with a gentleness I rarely heard from him. "You don't want me to kill her, do you?"

For a dozen paces, the only sounds were the ring of his spurs and the tapping of my cane. "Why would I want either of you to die?" I asked. "This doesn't make any sense. Gaia is just throwing these people's lives away."

"Unless she wins," he said. "In that case, you'll take over for me."

I didn't want to consider that option. He was immortal, but he still bled when cut. A fatal wound would kill him just as anyone else. "But you won't lose," I breathed more than said. I wasn't ready to take his name yet. I was still just Yama, and he couldn't die.

"You shouldn't assume the outcome of a duel beforehand. It's disrespectful to both of us."

When we reached the door to the hangar, he pushed it open without hesitation. Bainas sat on the metal floor beside her parked fighter, cards spread out in front of her. She didn't look up from them, even as we neared enough to see what they were.

"Whose fortune are you reading?" he asked. They looked like the same tarot cards she used during training when we were on breaks. We never knew whose fortune she was reading then, until she'd glance from the cards to one of us, usually frowning at whatever imminent doom was headed our way.

"Don't want to spoil things for you, Harlock," she said. When she flipped the last card, a detailed illustration of death stared back at us. Harlock looked disturbed, but not by the card. His eye focused on her instead, his brow furrowed like when her video feed first came through on the bridge. He looked like he was trying to place a face.

Bainas hopped to her feet and stretched her arms out above her head. "Alright, are you ready, Captain?" She opened her eyes to find me there. Judging by her stare, she hadn't realized I'd tagged along. "Are you acting as referee?"

"Yama is the closest to a neutral party we have on the ship," Harlock explained. "Should the winner need any medical assistance, he'll take them to the infirmary."

Bainas nodded. "He's good at small errands. Used to bring us our coffee every morning."

"I was part of the team, not your errand boy," I huffed. "I was just being polite."

"Come on, we all knew you were just there because of nepotism. But cheer up." She smacked her hand down against my shoulder in some attempt at patting. "You certainly weren't our least favorite of the group."

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to thank her or be offended. Harlock cut in before I could decide. "I'm ready if you would like to move to a more open area," he said.

They both looked calm, like this was just a sparring match between friends. As they moved to an empty space, they walked side by side, wrists resting on the handle of their sabers. One of them would be dead in a few minutes, and while they didn't seem concerned, I felt sick. My legs were cold and hollow, like they might give out any moment. My gut churned with fear, because Harlock could die. There was a chance he could wind up dead and bleeding on the floor, and I could only stand on the side and hope otherwise. My mouth was so dry I hoped they didn't need me to say go.

They separated themselves a few paces and stood facing each other. Bainas' saber came up parallel to her body in some form of salute. Harlock mirrored the move before they both stepped back into a fighting stance.

Silence held the air like they'd both frozen in that moment. I was about to ask if they did need some starting signal from me, when they each released a breath. In the span of a blink, they launched toward each other. Bainas went in for the kill with her first stoke, a jab Harlock sidestepped as though this was some sort of practiced dance.

He answered with a sweeping upward strike that she dodged by bending over backward. Her foot kicked up to knock his saber away, though he held firm to the handle as she completed her flip and returned upright. That look found Harlock's eye again, the look of a person thrilled with a challenge. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone try such a risky move before," he said, his tone not quite hiding praise.

"If I was anyone, this wouldn't be any fun," Bainas retorted with a more obvious smirk.

They needed their heads knocked together, so they could remember this was a fight to the death.

Again, Bainas stepped in to kill, aiming for his core. She wanted to have fun with this, but she wanted him dead too. She didn't play around when it came to finishing a fight. Harlock blocked with his saber, knocking hers off its mark as if in retaliation for her attempt before.

I wondered if that was considered a parry. In all the time I'd trained with the swordsmen assassins, I never learned a thing about swordplay. I did know they were good at it. I didn't need to see Bainas clashing sabers with Harlock like each predicted every move the other would make to know the assassins I'd trained against were formidable. Their sessions against each other were so violent I swore sparks flew in waves, spitting their hatred for each other without the need for words.

But Harlock and Bainas played off each other in a duel of respect. It was quick, so quick my eye barely kept up, but the blocks and blows didn't have the force of anger behind them. I wondered why it couldn't just end like the other matches – the tip or edge of a saber a breath away from an exposed neck or chest. No, this had to be the one to end in blood.

At some point – I didn't see when – the first blood of the match spilled. Harlock sported a gash across his forearm, the type he would call nick despite the blood pouring down the leather sleeve. Bainas sported a similar one on her thigh, darkening the purple material of her leggings. If either was in pain, they didn't telegraph it in any way.

Like an odd song, the clash of swords trilled to a quicker tempo. My eye struggled to keep up. A slash from Harlock was countered by a parry from Bainas. Another jab from Bainas, and Harlock flicked his saber around hers, twirling it off course.

A nick to Harlock's jaw.

A slash to Bainas' arm.

A slice across Harlock's shoulder.

A cut across Bainas' waist.

The wounds all seemed to appear without source. None of it slowed them down. My eyes burned from the strain of staying open. Every blink gambled with missing the end. But when it came, my eyes were so wide, I couldn't have closed them if I wanted to.

I wanted to more than anything.

Maybe Harlock wanted to end it, but that seemed unlike him. It looked like they both risked everything for a final blow, and they both won and lost their bet. Bainas' saber impaled Harlock through his gut at an upward angle. It didn't come out through the other side, but only because of the armor at his back. His blood trailed down her saber until it dripped from the guard.

If there was a worse off between them, though, it was Bainas. He'd pierced just below her collarbone at a downward angle. The middle of the blade fit into her chest while the end stuck out from her back. Her blood followed its trail too, through her hair and down toward the tip.

As my heart raced in my throat, I wondered who to take to the infirmary. My mind lagged too much to comprehend anything else, but my legs propelled me toward them.

Harlock eased his saber out as smoothly as he always drew it from its holster. He didn't want to cause her further pain, though she choked on her agony, blood spilling from her lips. Her hand shook as she tried to do the same for him. "Damn," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as she found she didn't have the strength to remove her saber.

In one swift motion that made me feel the heated chill of nausea, Harlock ripped the blade out himself. His breath hitched, face twisted in the pain he always tried to hide.

Bainas' saber clattered to the ground as he let go of it. She would have followed had Harlock not jumped forward to wrap his arm around her shoulders. Fat droplets of his blood splashed to the floor, while hers welled out across her chest. "That was the best fight I've had in decades," Harlock said. Pain tore his words like claws through paper, but his mouth twitched into a smile.

Bainas' answer bubbled with the blood on her lips "I was supposed to win." Her eyes dulled. "But next time, I'll win next time."

Harlock's smile vanished to raw pain as she fell limp. He would have lowered her to the floor if I hadn't rushed forward to do it for him. With a stomach wound like that, death could take him too within a few minutes. I threw his arm over my shoulder just before his legs stopped working. The strain of keeping us from toppling over ate at my leg wound, but there was no way for me to use the cane now.

"Don't die," I hissed. "We're going to the infirmary."

Though his legs appeared to be moving, I felt like I was dragging him. As long as we got through that door, I knew there would be someone waiting for us, so if he just survived until then.

"I asked you if you didn't want me to kill her," he said. His head hung, his voice so low I struggled to understand. "But I didn't want to kill her either."

"Stop talking," I snapped. "Just stay alive."

He didn't listen to my orders. He never did. "She fought just like her too," he murmured. "Emeraldas.

* * *

><p><strong>What worries me is that there are people reading this who may not know who Emeraldas is. It upsets me so much. Please go look up my wife if you don't know who she is. You are missing out. <strong>


	4. Three of a Kind

**I feel like I should offer some sort of warning for this chapter. Um, disclaimer: My taste in humor is terrible, and my taste in moderately canon-breaking headcanons is even worse. Further disclaimer: drugged Harlock. That's all I can offer. Carry on.**

* * *

><p>I wished I could stop breathing. Not because I wanted to die, but because the rise and fall of my stomach with each breath seemed to rip at my skin. From the moment I regained consciousness, the prickling, restrictive pain that came with stitches sparked with each breath.<p>

I struggled with consciousness the first few rounds, rousing from pain only to wonder at its source. I faded out each time before I could return to my senses. Whatever drugs I was on made me heavy and so exhausted I swore I felt tired even while sleeping. Until the pain outweighed the need to rest, I couldn't keep my eye open for more than a few seconds.

I could only guess the number of attempts before I grabbed hold of the waking world, refusing to let it slip through my fingers again. The memories returned in an instant. I could still feel the saber twisting in my gut, the way my body seemed to hang there on it. My current pain was nothing compared to that, though it was still unpleasant.

Yama was there when my eye focused. He slept in the same chair I'd placed at his side however many days before. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed.

Yama's chin dipped to his chest, his arms crossed. Frays of his hair poked up and out in all directions. The harsh breaths through his nose neared snores. He too looked exhausted in his sleep.

The mere act of reaching out threatened to tear at my stitches, but I latched my hand onto his shoulder nonetheless. His chin jerked up as a slur of incoherent words left him.

"Yama," I greeted in a voice too dry and rough to be my own. "Water."

He blinked a few times, eye focused on nothing. "Hm, sure," he said, standing. "Water." He shuffled over to the sink and filled up a glass for me. I considered requesting wine too, but I doubted he would be as willing of an errand boy for me as he was for the other assassins.

He still didn't look awake when he returned. After raising the bed into as much of a sitting position as my stomach would allow, he lifted the glass over my head. I had no means of escape as he dumped it over, icy water pouring through my hair and down the back of my neck. "Why?" I growled, my shoulders taut with irritation.

Instead of answering, Yama returned to the sink and refilled the glass. As he walked back, I finally noticed the anger situated beneath his exhaustion. Eyes half-narrowed, he clutched the glass tight enough to splotch his knuckles white and red. This time he did have the courtesy to shove the glass under my nose instead. After I took it, he dropped into his chair, arms and legs crossed. "Never again," he said. The tone of his command rivaled one of mine. There was no uncertainty. This order would be carried out without question. The only problem was I didn't know what he meant.

I cocked a brow as I sipped the water. Yama's glare sharpened. "Don't you ever pull something like that again. You are not allowed to die."

"That's not something you or I can necessarily control," I murmured over the rim of my glass. "I told you I could lose."

"No," Yama said. He kept his eye on the floor. "You won't die. I won't lose you."

Perhaps this wasn't the time to be making jokes, but I could blame this one on the drugs. "Well I can't live forever, Yama. I'm not immortal."

I might as well have offended him to the core with the look he threw me. For better or worse, he didn't acknowledge it otherwise. "If any more assassins show up and ask for a duel, I'll be the one to face them," he said. "They're my responsibility. They're here because of me."

Somewhere along the line his reasoning had derailed. "I believe they're here to kill me," I corrected. "That would make them my responsibility."

"If I'd killed you in the first place, we wouldn't have had to worry about them," he huffed. "And they're my…friends." He chewed on the word as though working out the meaning. "I should be the one to take care of them."

With my voice back, I set the glass aside, out of Yama's reach in case I offended him again. "But if they are your friends, you would be hesitant to harm them," I said. "That makes you vulnerable. Out of the two of us, my odds are better."

I realized the flaw in my statement as he poked my stitches. My eye twitched despite all attempts to hide the pain. "You're the one with a hole running all the way through you," Yama said. "Even if you are better equipped to kill them, my wounds are mostly healed. It's possible another could show up within the next few days, and I will face them."

"The next few days?" I parroted, holding a hand over my wound just in case he tried anything else. "Gaia sent the second right after the first. Why would they wait that long to send the third?" It was possible I'd already slept through a few days, and waiting around a week to send in their next attacker allowed us too much time to recuperate. The ship's repairs would be long done by then.

But Yama's eye darted away from mine. "We warped while you were asleep. Just once. Just to throw them off our location."

I showed no anger or disapproval on my face. I didn't need to. Yama understood already that he'd done something wrong. He cringed as I stared him down. "Who approved this?" I asked.

"We put it to a vote of the bridge crew and engineers. It was unanimous."

"How is the Arcadia?"

"We did a rush patch job to hold things together." He breathed a sigh through his nose. "It didn't, but no one was injured. The dark matter generator is running again to fix the damage. Bulkheads are sealing the worst area at the moment."

"You punched a hole in my ship," I said.

He rubbed his hand across his forehead as though fighting back a headache. "Yes, that's true, but Gaia knew our location. If we remained there, they could have sent a collection of their best ships after us. And with you unconscious-"

"You were in charge," I cut in.

"You say that like the crew would listen to me without you around. You know they still don't trust me completely."

That was almost a valid excuse, but I didn't accept excuses. "If you are making smart decisions and leading them well, they will follow. You can't simply skirt your duties because you're unsure of yourself."

The exhaustion returned to his face, weighting his eye and his shoulders. "I know," he said. "I still don't think we made a bad decision. At the very least, we're all still alive for the moment." A weak smile cracked onto his face as he turned to face me. "I liked you better when you were high as a kite. You were much nicer then."

I froze. He had to be joking. Yama was a terrible liar, but none of his usual ticks showed through here. "This is the first time I've woken up," I said.

A silent laugh escaped him. "We didn't know if you were going to make it until you woke up. I couldn't make sense of what you were saying the first time, because you'd only speak in German. The second time you just told a lot of stories."

"About what?" Whatever they were, they were better off untold.

"You talked about Emeraldas mostly. About how she used to kick your ass and you were the third wheel for her and Tochiro." Yes, these things were definitely better left untold. "You kept going on about how Bainas was her reincarnation, and you killed her reincarnation. You were very upset about that."

It took all my willpower to avoid covering my face with my hand. "What happened to Bainas?" I asked to divert the topic.

All amusement faded from his face. "We sent her out in a coffin before we warped and scrapped her ship for parts. The doctor wanted to do an autopsy to check what Gaia might have planted on her, but I limited him to a scan instead. It looks like she had the same implant as me." He reached up and tapped at his eye patch.

I was more interested in his diversion of the doctor. Only allowing a scan was such an odd thing for Yama to do. It was respectful, certainly, but innocent at the same time. I couldn't imagine anyone but Yama requesting such an action.

I wondered how much he'd slept and how long he'd stayed at my side while I was unconscious. Despite everything he faced, he was the most naïve person I'd known in some time. For the moment his usual boundless energy was replaced by exhaustion and frailty. Beneath the sadness marring his eye was fear, fear of whichever assassin had to die next. In that moment, I hoped his warp did give me enough time to heal because I wanted to face them instead of him.

"There are four left?" I asked.

He nodded. His eye closed to hide the pain that seeped into it.

"You were close to them?"

"Some of them," he breathed. "It's not important. No matter how close we were, I don't want to see them dead." Then he looked to me as though it hurt him, as though he could feel my wounds. "But I can't see you dead. I just can't Harlock."

He stood. His trembling hand came to rest against my cheek. Whatever his intent in that moment, it vanished as he sobbed a laugh. His hands returned to him to cover his face as he attempted to hold it back. But snorts and snickers morphed into wheezing laughter no matter his attempts. "I'm sorry I poured water on you," he gasped between his barking. "You're so wet. Oh my God. I will get you a towel."

I wasn't sure how else to respond, so I waited until he retrieved the towel. Instead of handing it to me, he dropped it on my head and ruffled my hair dry. Tufts of it flared out in all directions by the time he was done, so I patted it back down. He didn't need another thing to laugh at me about.

"It's about time I changed your bandages too," he sighed, a smile lingering on his face.

"Why you and not the doctor?" I asked as he went to grab them from the cabinet.

"If you think getting water dumped on you is bad, you don't want to see what the doctor will do once he finds out you're coherent. He was not happy when he found out you were run through. Now do your best to sit up."

Sitting up meant putting weight on the wound, and I had to grit my teeth to ease the nausea rising in my throat. Sweat broke out across my face within seconds as my insides twisted and writhed in protest.

"But don't kill yourself," Yama said as he returned. He sat beside me on the bed and put his arm around my shoulders to pull my weight against him.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked as he cut through the old bandages. If the next challenger showed up while I was stuck in this bed, I would need something to change into.

"Your shirt is gone," Yama said. "Not much we could do for that, but everything else is clean."

The longer I stayed against him, the closer I pressed, until my cheek rested against his shoulder. My nose brushed his neck, and with each breath I took in his scent – subtle, human, soft, and with just a hint of flowers from the storage room he'd formed into a greenhouse.

Usually when we were this close, he smelled of sweat, sex, and whatever alcohol led us to that point. How many one night stands could we have before they stopped being one-night stands?

His hands worked in a smooth rhythm, wrapping around my abdomen to cover the fresh, ugly scar settled among those that had healed long before. He wasn't firm enough with it. The wrap could have done to be tighter, but I couldn't mind the gentleness.

Maybe it was the occasional brush of his fingers on my bare skin or his smell or just those damn drugs, but I wanted him. Like when alcohol tinted our worlds with warm hues, I found myself drunk off being close to him. Of course, the thing that brought me here was the thing keeping me from my desires. I nudged my face closer to his neck, intoxicated by him. His hands hesitated for an instant, but he continued on without a word until he was finished. "Harlock," he murmured then. "What are we?"

I didn't know. I was too tired to know. Sleep was returning to claim me. "We're pirates," I said. It was all I could think up as an answer.

"No," he sighed, though I could hear a smile in his voice. "I mean what are we to each other?"

Still, I didn't know the answer. Perhaps we were master and protégée or rivals. In some strange way, we may have been friends. I couldn't say what we were to each other for sure, but some part of my mind told me in a whisper that he was mine.

My protégée. My rival. My traitor. Mine.

But with no clear answer for him, I avoided answering altogether. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I hate to see you hurt," he said. "And I can't stand the thought of seeing you dead." He was more honest than me. One of the most honest people I'd ever met – an assassin and spy. It was no wonder he'd failed those tasks.

My arms drifted up on some strange whim of their own. They slipped around his small form, and I held him. I had no reason for it, only more maybes and excuses. "I have no plans to die just yet," I said. "But you can't die either, so whatever assassin comes, you must beat them. I don't care who they are." I raised my head and stared into his eye. "You have to win because I want you alive."

We were little more than an inch apart, so it didn't take much to lean forward the rest of the way and kiss him. It was simple, a few seconds of being close to him. In some ways, that was enough, and yet I wanted more. When I pulled back, I felt so tired I thought I might fall asleep right there. Then I saw his face, the soft dusting of a blush across his cheeks and the aversion of his eye.

My hands slipped up to hold his face, to pull his attention back to me. I wanted his focus on me, only on me. As soon as he looked my way, I kissed him again. I kissed him until his lips parted and I could taste the wet heat of his tongue. I felt him stifle a moan with a whimper and brushed my thumbs against his cheeks, feeling the softness of his skin along with the smooth, raised scar tissue. One of his hands tangled in my hair, pushing me closer.

What were we? Even then I didn't know.

Nothing. Something. Everything.

Maybe.

But no matter what we were, he was mine.

* * *

><p>I woke to the warning alarm screaming overhead. Kei's voice cut through before it finished. "We've got another fighter approaching," she said. "It will probably be like the last one, but be prepared for anything."<p>

By "prepared for anything," I assumed she meant "be prepared for something to blow up."

Despite the doctor's orders, I rolled out of bed and to my feet. He could yell at me later. I wasn't dead yet. I needed to greet my guest.

The clothes Yama left for me were from so far back in my closet I'd forgotten I owned them. I hadn't worn a button-up shirt in years, but Yama refused to bring me any of my usual clothes, worried the tight, harsh materials might aggravate my wound. Once dressed, I did look as though I was about to formally greet a guest. I would replace the outfit as soon as possible.

Men threw questioning glances my way as strode through the hall. Ignoring them, I kept my eye ahead and fought through any signs of a limp. I wasn't sure my insides weren't ripping apart, but I wasn't bleeding yet. Gritting my teeth, I walked on with my shoulders back and my chin up. It felt like I was dragging a knife through my gut.

Yama stood at a communication console when I arrived, Kei at the opposite. Judging by the sound of silence, it appeared everyone on the bridge held their breaths, waiting for the new arrival. They didn't notice me until I stood between Yama and Kei.

"Captain." Yama's voice held a warning. "You're not supposed to be out of bed."

Kei stared at my bare feet, amusement creeping into her expression.

"I want to see who's come to kill me," I said. Though if I was being honest, I'd come to see who Yama would fight. As the seventh of seven assassins, he was already ranked weaker than any of them. Had he fought Bainas, the match would have ended within seconds. Yama had nowhere near the skill or training of even the assassin directly above him. I told him he couldn't die, and yet I was allowing him to go on with this suicide of a duel.

"They're within range," Kei said. "Requesting communication link."

"Go ahead," Yama answered before I could. As the new assassin appeared on the overhead, I watched the color drain from Yama's face. His hands shook no matter how tightly he gripped the console in front of him. If the utter loss drowning his eye was any indication, this was a friend whether he would admit it or not.

No one spoke right away, neither Yama nor the man I turned to find glaring at me from his cockpit. I would have spoken, but for once I found myself at a loss. Gaia could be fools, but they weren't stupid. They should have known better than to send a man I'd fought before as an undercover agent against me. Granted, the "undercover" part didn't matter at this point, but it was strange that they'd ever considered Warrius Zero at all. He was one of Gaia's generals now. The whole of the crew knew of him. I'd blown up a ship he captained back when he was in his 20s, spared him only because he fought to protect the civilians we didn't know were onboard. Though to be fair, our duel never ended with a clear winner or loser.

Yama was the first to speak, all eyes on him except for Zero's. "Are you here for a duel?" Yama's voice wavered either from anger or sadness. With his head down, his hair hung in front of his eye. The last time I'd seen him show such weakness in front of an enemy, his brother was standing over him.

Zero's eyes remained on me as he answered. "Yes, I have been assigned to kill Harlock."

Yama's jaw was taut. The trembling of his hands infected his shoulders. "I am Harlock's successor. I wear the brand that marks us as equals. You will duel me in his place." As his chin jerked up, resolve strengthened his gaze into a glare. But Zero, the man who'd stared me down the same way years before, winced and glanced away.

"That's fine," he said despite the pain in his eyes. "As long as I kill one of you, my mission is complete. Gaia sees you as an equal threat because of your position."

"We'll duel in the hangar," Yama said. "Kei, open the doors to let him in."

Her hand hovered over her console as though she feared touching it. Even as she gave in and tapped out the command, her movements were sluggish.

"Very well," Zero answered. "I wish you luck." He never once looked directly at Yama.

Once the feed shut off, Yama's fist smashed into the top of his console. Half the bridge crew jolted against the noise. "Not him," he choked, raw pain eating at his voice. "They weren't supposed to send him. He wasn't one of us."

That made more sense. "Then why send one of their generals?" I asked.

"He was the one who trained us because he'd dueled you before. He's Gaia's best swordsman."

Yama would die. Quickly. Without question. Regardless of Zero's rank, Yama was coming apart at the seams. He held himself up against the console, fighting away tremors that wracked his form. He couldn't win any duel like this.

Then he continued, with the broken whisper of a lost child. "He's my uncle. He took care of us after Mom died. I can't lose him too." He looked up to me with pain bleeding from his eye, as though he wanted me to find some solution. But there was none. I had no reassurances, and I couldn't encourage him to kill his uncle.

"He's the last family I have left," Yama pleaded.

"Will he kill you?" I asked. "Would he kill his nephew?"

"I don't know." Without warning, Yama spun and ran for the door. "I have to talk to him," he gasped.

I followed in as quick of a gait as my stomach would allow, catching the doors just before they closed and slipping in after him. As we started down, he collapsed his weight against the wall. "Harlock." His voice sounded lost on a breeze, empty and far away. "This doesn't make sense."

No, it did make sense. It made sense for Gaia. They knew this would tear Yama apart. They wanted to break him. They had the means to do it, and they would use them.

As he clutched his shirt just above his heart and bit back tears, I burned with a resurgence of hatred for them. It was a hatred I hadn't felt in ages, the kind that made my mouth taste bitter. If there was any chance I could get both Zero and Yama out of this alive, I would take it.

There was one solid option.

Yama said he didn't want me to die either, but Zero was something to him. Zero was the last one he had left. Zero was everything.

Yama loved Zero. Perhaps Zero loved Yama as well.

I didn't know if I would die for that love, but I would be damned if I didn't do everything in my power to keep it in tact.

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><p><strong>If you like this trash fic (are you okay?) or if you think I am trash (it's true), you can leave a review letting me know if you feel like it. I use them to feed my ego. Also, fun fact I am honestly kind of bitter Carpe Noctem is so much more popular than this fic. <strong>


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